


You are the Revelation

by MazzySE37



Series: Bright Blue Eyes [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, F/M, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Lost Bucky Barnes, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Feels, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, The Author Regrets Nothing, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MazzySE37/pseuds/MazzySE37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was expecting his death to come at the hands of Bucky Barnes, but instead the knife never came down. He is left in his apartment with his best friend, who is a very dangerous assassin and can't trust anyone, not even the blond man that he faintly remembers. And so Steve does what he does best. He helps an injured, cornered, and twitchy Winter Soldier, despite knowing it might be the death of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are the Revelation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FyreRed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyreRed/gifts).



> So I wasn't going to add to this at all. But... I figured that I needed to do something. Especially since it's Steve's birthday today and I kinda feel like it was fitting, especially given how the last one ended. I dunno. Maybe these will become a regular thing? Even if I don't post a one-shot all that often? I dunno really.
> 
> The good news? I feel like I better captured their personalities in this one, especially Bucky.
> 
> This one-shot in particular is a gift to a friend of mine and my beta reader, FyreRed.

Steve laid there and he knew that he had never been more vulnerable, especially not in front of someone that was trying to kill him. Part of his logical mind was telling him to shove Bucky off of him, to try and put some sort of distance between them, to stop himself from dying. He needed to do something other than just lay there prone and watch as the assassin lashed out with the knife.

But the pain never came. Steve was trembling. His entire body felt like it was going to come apart from the anticipation that he was really about the die.

But he still was alive. He dared to crack an eye open and he looked up in confusion at the assassin that was still straddling him, gripping the knife and glaring down at him. The knife was inches away from the soft skin of his throat. He could feel the tension in Bucky's body, and yet he still didn't slit his throat and kill him.

" _Why_ can't I kill you? What do you want with me?" The assassin growled down at at him.

"Please. I just want you to remember. I want my best friend back. I want my brother back. I won't let HYDRA take you back." He knew that his sounded pathetic and he could already picture what other people would say about his tone. He could already picture Stark laughing at him and calling him names because he couldn't keep it together. But he didn't care. There was no one here but Bucky, and he really doubted the man was going to start judging him now beyond what he already had, not when he barely knew who he was.

Saying HYDRA's name had apparently struck a chord. At the mere mention of the secret organization, the Winter Soldier recoiled, growling angrily, gripping his shirt tightly with one hand while the other held the knife to his throat. "No! Don't say their name!"

Steve laid there in utter silence for a long moment and then he dared to say with strong conviction. "I won't let them take you again, Bucky. I swear it. They'll have to kill me before I let them take you. I won't let them turn you into... this. Not again. I'll help you remember. I'll help you remember who you are. Damn them all to hell."

Steve was faintly sure that he is going to be choked again or have his throat slit and he instantly drops his hand, eyes locked on the blade in the man's right hand. He grumbled. "Because you're my best friend. You're more than that. You're all I have left. I thought you were dead." His voice cracked.

Bucky snorted. "It doesn't matter. Even if I remembered, they'd just take it all away again.

_They'd just take it all away again._ Steve gritted his teeth the second that he heard it. No. He wasn't going to let them take anything away. Never again. Bucky wasn't going to be found by HYDRA because he was going to help him. He was going to keep him safe and he was going to help him remember. Steve was going to rewrite Bucky's story. It wasn't going to end as some tragedy. He was going to help him if it was the last thing that he ever got the chance to do.

"No. They won't take it away, Bucky. I won't let them." Steve's tone was surprisingly dark, considering the man was known for being full of morals.

He looked like was about to lose it. There was a dark festering part of him that wanted to track down the bastards that had done this to his best friend and kill them. He had remembered feeling like this once before, right after Bucky's apparent death.

He reached up both hands and ran them down his face, letting out a very shaky breath. "They won't take it away. I watched you die once. I won't watch them turn you into a nameless weapon ever again. You can trust me."

Trust was clearly not something the Winter Soldier was familiar with. His blue eyes were filled with distrust.

"It won't happen." Steve said more firmly.

He looked up at him and when their gaze met again. Steve held his gaze as he muttered. "I promise. I'll help you, Bucky."

"You're lying."

"You can trust me." Steve repeats and it's the truth.

Bucky could never trust anyone more than he could trust him. That was because he knew him better than anyone else and he was going to help him. Part of him was wanting to help despite whether or not Bucky wanted it. He was desperate. After thinking his best friend had been killed on that day so many years ago, he was desperate to help him get back his humanity.

There was an excruciatingly long pause of silence, and he was wishing that Bucky would say something and he'd let him help him. He didn't know how to help him. Not yet. But when he found out how, he was going to help him. He was going to help him in any way that he could. He just had to figure out how that was first.

Finally the assassin pushed himself off of him and he slumped back against the wall, watching Steve warily.

Help me. Steve tensed under him as he slides off of him, painfully brushing past his own wounds. They were healing, yes, but they still hurt. He was slightly wary that just maybe the stitches had come out from one of the bullet wounds, but he decided not to check. His shirt was white. It'd be easy to tell if he was bleeding out.

"I'll help you. I promise. Just... don't lash out." Steve asked because he knew that Bucky was still unstable. If he pushed his boundaries too far, he knew he'd get attacked. He sat up slowly and slid over to where he was sitting. The first thing he did was reach behind Bucky's head and undid the clasp on the mask and pull it off, so he could fully see his face.

"It'll be easier to breathe." He quickly explained as he heard Bucky's breath catch, and he faintly caught the way the man's hand was curling tighter around the knife's hilt.

Steve was a gentle man. He always had been. Even though he was a soldier, he didn't enjoy hurting people. He hurt people because sometimes it was the only way he could keep innocent people safe. He had remembered Erskine asking him if he wanted to join the army so that he could kill Nazis. He had told him then that he didn't want to kill anyone. He just wanted to protect people. That hadn't changed in the last seventy years. Though a lot of the naivete had started to ebb away as he had come to realize that not everything was black and white. Not like back in the 40s.

He had always been a gentle soul at the very core of his being. But he couldn't stop the murderous thoughts that were thundering away in his head. He wanted to kill them all. All of HYDRA. They had deserved to die before, for their actions during the war. But this. This was something else entirely and he was never going to find it in himself to forgive anyone that had associated themselves with HYDRA. Not when they had taken his best friend and turned him into...

_Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He's a ghost, you'll never find him..._

"No. You're much more than a ghost." He grumbled under his breath.

He was looking Bucky in the eyes and he could see the masked fear there. He could see the confusion and uncertainty. He could tell that the man was having a hard time believing him, of trusting him. It would be easier to lash out and run. So much easier. But Bucky wasn't attacking him. He was watching him.

What amazed Steve was that although he looked so different, there was a part of him that still looked like Bucky. His hair was too long and it was ratty and tangled. His chin is covered in stubble and there is an intensity in his eyes that hadn't been there before. But still. There is a part of him that is still Bucky and he knew it. He just had to figure out how to get that part out again. HYDRA had buried it so, so deep.

He had already started to look at his wounds. He had noticed how Bucky had placed a hand over his stomach as he had settled back against the wall. He glanced up at him, giving a silent warning of what he was about to do. He carefully reached down and tugged up his jacket a bit, though he heard Bucky growl angrily and recoil from him. He clearly didn't trust him. Not that much.

"You have to trust me. I'm just trying to help."

That seemed to do little to relax the assassin. In fact, he looked even more paranoid than he had before. He was eyeing him carefully and then he snorted and looked away from him. Steve was watching his face and he figured that that was about as much of an approval to pull up his jacket as he was going to get. He tugged at the leather, pulling it up and he began looking at the deep bruises and he winced. As far as he could tell, the man had likely broken several ribs. That wasn't even counting in the bullet wound and deep gash he had on his lower abdomen.

He paused suddenly when he heard him ask a question, the man's tone was dark. "Why do you insist on calling me Bucky?"

"I called you Bucky. That's your name. James Buchanan Barnes. But you just went by Bucky." Steve got up long enough to get the first aid kit. He needed to tape his torso, see if that would help the pain in his ribs and allow his body to heal. He knelt back down beside him and he kept his eyes downcast so he could focus on his task.

"You took care of me for a long time, Buck. I wasn't always like this. I was small and sickly. People used to pick on me a lot. You never let them get away with it. You took care of me and I owe you a lot for that. You're my best friend. I thought... I thought you'd died because of me." Steve's voice cracked, the guilt was hanging heavy on his mind.

He knew that Bucky probably wasn't listening. He didn't realize that as he went on, the man turned his gaze back to him, watching him with faint confusion, though he was clearly trying to hide it. He was more interested in what Steve had to say than perhaps he should have been. There was a part of him that honestly didn't know what to think was true. Pierce had controlled him so completely, but a niggling part of his brain was telling him to trust Steve Rogers.

"I'm Captain America. I should be perfect. I should have been faster. I should have caught you. But instead I watched you fall from that train and you died." Steve lifted his gaze, eyeing the metal arm.

Steve's hands were unsteady. He shouldn't doing this while he was distracted. He shouldn't be thinking about how Bucky had died, how he had fallen from that train.

_He couldn't see what was happening beyond seeing Bucky pick up his shield and begin to fire at the HYDRA agent. Steve had felt such a heavy sense of dread as he had pushed himself up and he had tried to stop what he had seen coming. There was a flash of blue and while the bolt of energy had bounced harmlessly off the shield, Bucky had been thrown backward and out through the hail, barely grabbing onto the rail in time to save himself. He was dangling there, the fear clear in his eyes._

_Take my hand!" He cried desperately._

He reached out, trying to reach out and grab him by the hand and pull him back into the safety of the train. Bucky tries. He reaches up and their fingers brush. And then the rail he was hanging onto gives and he's falling. He's screaming as he falls and Steve can only scream alongside him. He gripped the jagged metal and dipped his head, tears falling down his cheeks.

Steve cleared his throat as he finished taping his ribs. He was trying his best to not let the thoughts he was having show on his face.

He turned his attention to the gunshot wound and began to try and extract the bullet before suturing it closed. He wasn't a doctor, but he did know basic first aid. And he figured that his shitty job would just have to do, because he knew that Bucky would never agree to go to a hospital.

Just as he went to extract the bullet, the man's metal hand shot up and gripped him by the wrist, his tight was painful and he growled out slowly. "I already removed it."

Steve nodded and he dropped the tool and he tried not to let the pain on his face show as the man's grip on his wrist tightened even more. "I remember... a small blond boy."

He stiffened when he spoke and he glanced up at him. "Yeah. That was me. Tiny and awkward and weak. I couldn't do anything to protect myself."

Bucky's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he finally released his hand and allowed Steve to grab the needle and thread and he began to gingerly suture the bullet wound closed. He was trying to keep his eyes locked on his hands as they worked quickly and efficiently, trying to finish as quickly as possible.

"I'm not who you think I am."

He heard him. Steve couldn't do this right now.. His hands were shaking and his body was betraying him. He couldn't be this close while he was clearly falling apart on the inside. He leaned back some and he stared at the floor. "You're him. You just don't remember it. I want to help you, Bucky. I just don't know how." How? How was he supposed to help him? Steve raised his gaze and he looked up at him, unsure of what he was going to say.

He couldn't stop himself as he reached out and he pulled the man into a hug.

The reaction was instant. Bucky cursed in Russian and struggled against him, murder glinting in his eyes. He was going to kill the super soldier. He was going to kill him for crossing the line. He gripped the knife tighter and he was about to lash out when Steve recoiled just as quickly as he had moved to hug him.

He should have known better. He should have stopped himself. He was so desperate though. He was so desperate to have Bucky back. He hadn't thought about what he had been doing. No. This wasn't the time and the place. It was never going to be right.

"I'm sorry." Steve was quick to apologize and he quickly finished suturing and bandaging his wounds as quickly as he could. He needed to put space between them. He needed to get away from him and get his head back on straight. He needed to remember what was important and what lines he wasn't going to let himself cross, especially with Bucky. He had trusted him enough to help him with his wounds. He could only hope that he hadn't ruined that.

"I'm sorry." He repeated as he pulled away, the bandages were on tight and now all Bucky had to do was sit back and relax and let himself heal. That was good news, right? Now he was able to pull the leather jacket back down and he wasn't having to look at the bruises anymore. He didn't need to look at the reminders of his failure.

Steve pushed himself up to his feet and he made sure to walk to the opposite side of the room. It felt too hot and he was pretty sure that he was going to be sick. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop the rush of panic and shame he was feeling. Why? Why had he even done that? He knew that Bucky didn't remember him. He didn't even remember who he was, so why he thought hugging him had been a bright idea, he had no clue.

The anger in Bucky's eyes was obvious, because he clearly didn't want to be touched again. Not in such a close and intimate manner, so though they were friends, as though what Steve had been saying this entire time was possible the truth. His body was trembling, aching and insisting he tear the soldier's throat out. He licked his lips and then he demanded angrily. "Why?"

"Sorry. I don't know... why I did that." He reached up and he rubbed the back of his head. Maybe if he could figure out why he had done it, he would be able to stop the way his cheeks were now completely red with color from the shame. Maybe he could stop the guilt that he was feeling by trying to help Bucky remember.

He dared to look up and he glanced over at Bucky. "It won't happen again. I promise."

Bucky snorted. He didn't have the patience nor the desire to deal with this bullshit.

He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to say in order to fix this. He needed to fix it somehow. He glanced up at the man and as soon as he saw him begin to open up the window, he stood up quicker than he should have. He felt one of his wound twinge painfully and he winced. Right. Even being a super soldier and healing faster than a normal human it took more than two weeks to fully heal from a bullet wound.

Steve took a breath and then he was trying to edge closer to the man, his eyes were filled with some unknown emotion. Guilt, most likely. He didn't want him to leave. "No. Please. Please don't leave."

He was going to say anything that he possibly could in order to get him to stay. He needed him to stay. He didn't want to lose her best friend again. Not after everything that they had been through. He lowered gaze for a fraction of a second and when he looked back up at him, he could tell that Bucky didn't want to stay. He knew he didn't feel comfortable. And it was all his own damn fault because he couldn't keep his lips to himself. He had been so desperate. So desperate to get his friend back that it might just make him leave.

He bit his lip and he raised a hand and ran it through his blond hair. "Just... just stay for one night at least. I'll let you sleep in my bed. I mean, what harm could that do?"

The blank look on the assassin's face said how much harm it could do.

Steve looked so defeated. He had royally fucked up and now Bucky was trying to leave. He saw him begin to get up and he frowned. He walked closer to him.

Bucky was struggling to stand because as much as he had been trying to put on a strong facade, he was injured and even his serum enhanced body was struggling to keep going after two weeks straight of little rest, no food, and barely taking in any fluids. He had been in a state of constant movement, being paranoid by every bump in the night that just maybe this was going to be the night in which HYDRA would find him again and they would drag him back to the chair and make him forget everything. He gripped the windowsill with his metal hand and he began to hail himself up, despite the pain that lanced through his stomach and torso.

Steve cursed and he lunged forward just in time to catch him as Bucky's legs nearly gave out from under him. He ignored the protests and the Russian curses. He ignored him as he tried to shove him away. He was vaguely aware that Bucky was threatening to kill him. He didn't care. He wound an arm around him, bearing some of the weight of the assassin against him. "You need to rest. You can barely stand, Bucky."

The assassin snarled angrily. "Let go of me."

After several moments of continued struggling, the Winter Soldier seemed to relent, allowing the super soldier to help the injured man back to his bedroom. He had no idea just how much Bucky would tolerate of his help, but until he started being choked again, he was going to help him. He managed to get the man sitting down on the bed. His jacket was riddled with blood and bullet holes. He glanced up into those blue eyes for a moment and then began working on getting the clothing off his top half. He figured Bucky could wear one of his shirts or just go shirtless. God knows it would be more comfortable.

"Don't need your help." Bucky grumbled, though it was clear that he did need his help, but he allowed the assistance, even if his pride dictated he didn't let it show that he was thankful for everything that he was doing.

After all, Steve would never hurt Bucky. He would rather cut off one of his own limbs than hurt the man. Especially after everything he had been through. The pain and torture that HYDRA had most definitely put him under. They had broken him somehow. They had made him forget and they had turned him into the Winter Soldier somehow. He didn't know exactly what they had done to him, but he knew that they had hurt him and Steve was never going to let anyone hurt him again. At least, not if he could help it.

Just seeing the marks upon his body as he finally peeled the leather off of him had him seeing red. He knows better than to push his luck and ask him about the scars. He was going to keep a handle on his emotions. It was the scarring around his metal arm that really had his blood boiling. He could tell that HYDRA had most likely taken off far more of his arm than they had needed to.

He reached out and trailed his fingers over the metal shoulder, careful not to touch the scarred tissue. He wanted to ask if it hurt. He wanted to make them pay for this. They needed to burn in hell anyway, but seeing this unnecessary pain was almost too much for even the Golden Boy of America to handle.

Surprisingly, Bucky allowed the faint touches, but he was watching him like a hawk. He was just waiting for him to brush those scars and to cause him pain, to give him an excuse to put a bullet between his eyes. He continued to glare at him, silently willing those probing fingers to slip up, but they never do.

He pulled his hand away and then when he was certain that Bucky was comfortable, including taking off his boots which had caused another bout of protests and threats to his life, he helped ease the man down against the bed. He could tell that he needed the sleep.

He pulled back entirely and he caught the angry eyes yet again. Bucky grumbled. "I know your damn face. I remember you. They tried so hard to erase you, but they never could. Why not?"

He paused the question and he glanced at him, unsure of what he should tell him. Part of his heart was soaring that Bucky knew him. That he had always known him, but he couldn't let his hope and joy show too much. What if this was just him being delirious while he was in pain?

"They didn't want you to remember me because we're best friends. If anyone could ever pull you back into the light, they knew it would be me." Steve said softly. He moved to pull the sheets and thin blanket up over the assassin and he sat down on the edge of the bed, looking every bit as much the ninety-five year old man he really was.

"There was a time back during the war that HYDRA took you. I found out where they were holding you and I broke in by myself and I single-handedly saved you and the rest of the men you had been serving with. I was a single man that fought through an army of hundreds to get to one person. The person that mattered most to me. I didn't care if I died. All I cared about was getting you back because you're my brother, Bucky." He reached out and placed a very tentative hand on his shoulder.

Bucky quickly slapped the hand off of his shoulder, trying not to let the conflicting emotions show on his face.

"I saw what Zola did to you and I had never been more relieved and yet more terrified before in my life. I was afraid of what they had done to you. Yet when you recognized me..." He trailed off.

No. Bucky didn't need to hear this. Not now. He shook his head and then he moved to stand up. He glanced down at his friend and awkwardly rubbed at the back of his head. He looked away and jerked his thumb at the door. "I'll, uh, sleep on the couch. So if you need anything, just look for me there."

Steve instantly began retreating for the door.

"Rogers."

Steve turned and he looked back at the man, watching as he struggled for words. Finally he settled on. "What I said before. I'm not a good man? I meant it."

"I know you are." He said with a grim smile, he reached out and he gripped the doorknob and he turned it and he began to step out when he heard a grunt in reply to what he had just said.

He closed the door softly and he walked over to the couch, sinking down heavily into the cushions and he closed his eyes, feeling like a ton of bricks was sitting on him. He reached out for his phone and he scrolled through the contacts and he hit send. He needed help. He couldn't do this on his own.

As the phone rang, he was almost positive that he was going to be sent to voice mail. Instead, he was surprised when he heard a familiar feminine voice on the other end.

"What's wrong, Steve?"

"Natasha. I need you to come back DC." Steve breathed.

He heard a bit of rustling on the other end. He couldn't tell if she was getting dressed or getting out of bed.

"Why? What's wrong?"

Steve glanced over at the door to his bedroom. He didn't say anything for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he knew his voice was cracking with emotion. "Bucky's in my apartment."

He heard a sharp intake of breath, but it was soft. Clearly she hadn't been expecting that.

"And?" She pressed him further, her voice sounded farther away. This time the rustling was clearly and he was pretty sure that she was getting dressed.

"And he's sleeping in my bed after I treated his wounds." He said, eyes still locked on his bedroom door.

There was a flutter of movement over the phone and Natasha's voice sounded closer. "I'll be there in a couple of hours, as soon as I can. Make sure he stays there and for the love of god don't do something stupid."

He smiled grimly. "Aren't I always smart?"

"When it comes to Barnes? No."

His nose wrinkled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Agent Romanoff."

There was a fate chuckling on the other end and then he closed his eyes. "I'm not crazy for wanting my best friend back, right?"

"No. You're not crazy for wanting him back. But what I'm afraid of, is what crazy thing you'll do _to_ get him back." Natasha said, muttering something softly that suspiciously sounded like she wanted him back as well. That piqued his interest, but he knew better than to pry.

"Thanks."

There was a long moment of silence and then he heard her say softly. "Steve?"

"Yes?"

"Happy Birthday."

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot has not been read by my beta, so there maybe a few mistakes here and there. I'll edit it later with a newer version after I get my beta to read it. So be aware that there will be minor changes later on!


End file.
